" "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. "But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been. "Sometimes a cup of lies is a cheering thing," replied the trader. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. She looked at him as he fingered a small switch on the side of the helicopter’s door. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums.
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